Two halves of the same coin
by paigeylizzythorpey
Summary: John doesn't cope well after the fall, he has no one. The only person is the world who could ever make him happy was Sherlock. The one who hurt him most.
1. Chapter 1

**As _much_ as I wish I did, I don't own the BBC Sherlock, or any of the characters. **

**Set three years after Sherlock s "death"**

**I'm really sorry about any errors I made while doing this,****I don't have spell or grammar check on my computer xD but I hope you like it all the same!**

**_John just takes each day at a time, exsisting, but not living. No not anymore, his reason for living is gone, and now he has no one... nothing. Not even Mrs Huddson take help John with the pain he's feeling, the only person who ever could is gone... gone for good. Or so he thinks. _**

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><p>"John you can't spend all your time in this flat. You have to go out." said a gentle voice, John barely looked up, he barely even moved.<p>

"I've been doing the same thing for two and a half years now. Whats changed?" He's voice is quiet, but rough. He hardly ever uses it now, hardly ever speaks to anyone, why would he? No one understands what he feels. No one.

"I know its been hard for you John" Mrs Hudson says, her voice sympathetic, John hates this, he can hear pity. Why pity him?

"But, you have to move on at some point..." she carry's on talking, but John doesn't listen. He doesn't need to listen to know what she's going to say, something about how its not what Sherlock would have wanted. But Sherlock's not here to stop John, not here to help him. To save him.

The nightmares reply every night, and John can't escape. He's tried. But there's nothing he can do, he is almost like a child again, being able to do nothing.

John walks away and leaves mrs Huddson talk, he doesn't know where he's going but he decides to go out. He walks through the streets of London, taking to notice to where he's going. Not caring where he ends up. He just walks.

Soon he ends up in a grave yard, it looks familiar to him, and he stands before a grave. He remembers now, his dream like sate broken as he looks down at the name. Sherlock Holmes. John can't fight anymore, the tears in his eyes just fall down his cheeks freely. He doesn't know what to do he says to no one.

"Sherlock" his voice breaks as he talks.

"I think I know why it hurts to much, I never got the change to tell you." he says, "I love you Sherlock."

_I love you John_

Johns head shoots up, but there's no one around. He imagined it, he does that a lot. Thinks he seems him, runs... but then there's no one there.

He kneels down at the headstone and curls up. Slowly drifting of to sleep. Feeling the need to be with Sherlock

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><p>The months pass, and John creeps away from everyone else slowly day by day, sometimes even refusing to get out of bed. But even though people worry, they just sit back and watch.<p>

Sherlock wouldn't, John thinks. He'd make me get out of bed, he make me go to work. But without him, whats the point?

John's tired all the time, he's so so tired. He ignores the fact Mrs Hudson has started to get to ill to do anything, he doesn't show any signs of compation when she's rushed to hospital three days later. He doesn't know what to do.

But inside he's praying, she's can't leave him. Not her as well. He's scared, scared if he shows he cares, when she's gone it'll hurt more. He knows deep down its not like that, but he can't stop.

If Sherlock was here, Sherlock would make everything right again... But he's not and John's on his own.

He's sitting in a hospital waiting room, when a doctor comes out, he hair is short and dirty blonde, he's short. And his facing is aging... It has a grave look about it, and John knows. Before he speaks. He knows.

"I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

And there, John Watson. I once army doctor, who thought he could face everything life throw at him. Was now alone, a broken man.

The house is left to John. She didn't want him to have no where to go, she knew she was dying. Terminal. Ill for months the doctors said, but John could barely listen.

He's alone for real this time.

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><p><strong>Three years after Sherlock's Death<strong>

With no one to tell him to move, John doesn't. With no one to tell him to eat, John doesn't.

He keeps a dairy though. A little book, but he doesn't write about his day. All he writes are four simple words, words he wished he could have said before it was to late.

_I love you Sherlock_

He thinks about Mrs Hudson, he misses her, he cries for her. But Sherlock will always have the most part of his broken, grieving heart.

He's sitting on the sofa one day, staring at the violin that hasn't moved since the last time Sherlock's hands where on it. He wants to pick it up, to feel Sherlock's essence through it, but once its moved it means he's gone. No one touched his violin. Nothing of Sherlock's has been moved. John made sure it's all exactly how he left it.

Something makes John move, a sudden feeling, he couldn't explain. It pulls him in to Sherlock's room. A room he hadn't entered in three years, to scared to disturb anything.

He walks in now, he doesn't care. There's something in here he needs.

There, on Sherlock's bedside table, a dairy he had kept. John's heart beat quickens. He picks it up, the only thing that has moved since Sherlock's death.

He opens it to the last day, hoping to find something to make him feel as though Sherlock is still with him.

He begins to read.

_I don't want to do this, but I can't see John die. I couldn't live if I had to see John die. He'll understand, in the end I'm sure. But I can't watch John die. Not Doctor Watson. Not MY doctor. My John. My love. I have to keep him safe. No matter what the cost. Even if it means losing him, I have to keep him alive._

John stars blankly at the page, not quiet sure what he meant. How could Sherlock lose John, when Sherlock's the one who died?

Unless...

"John."

He hears a voice, a voice he hasn't heard is three years.

John looks up. Not believing what he's hearing or seeing.

Sherlock.

"No." is all John can say. He's heart beating 100 beats per second.

"I'm here John." Sherlock's tender voice sent a shudder through John, but he sat shaking his head.

"You're dead." His eyes feel with tears. "You left me, alone. You left me ALONE!" John couldn't help the anger he was feeling.

The man he thought had been his friend... his best friend. Had lied to him, and made him believe he was dead, and put him through three years worth of pain. For nothing.

"I can explain John."

Explain? How could he explain this? But Sherlock. He was alive.

"John..." He heard Sherlock whisper. "Please... let me."

John looked up at the taller man, taking him in, he looked like himself, yet so different. He looked older, paler and tired. "Go on" He stuttered.

"I couldn't tell you, if Moriarty's people had thought I'd lived. Especially after he'd died. They would have killed you. I couldn't let that happen." John could here the pain in Sherlock's voice as he talked about the night of his "death".

What John had read in Sherlock's Dairy all started to make sense now. He's eyes where being opened and he was seeing everything clearly. Something Sherlock had always been able to do.

"Then why now? Why wait so long?"

"I had to wait until I was sure that no one would come after you, because of me. Please understand John. I did this to protect you, because I lo-" He cut himself off. "Because I care about you."

John heard Sherlock's slip up, and suddenly remember the day at the grave yard.

_I love you John_

John stood, locking eyes with Sherlock. The dairy falling to the floor. Sherlock flinched away, sure John was going to hit him.

"I know I hurt you John, if I could have done this any other way. I would have. I.."

"I know Sherlock. I love you too."

Sherlock's eyes widened. His body glowed. Everything about him was perfect thought John.

The slowly moved together. Their bodies fitting together in perfect unison. Their mouths pressed against each other, as they kissed.

It started slow, gentle... but soon it became rough. Full of desperation. And years worth of longing.

They fell on to the bed, together holding each other tight as their kiss broke part. They lay there staring in to each others eyes.

and soon fell asleep in each other arms. John had his Sherlock back. And Sherlock had his John.


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. I know its not great but I hope you like this one too. Thank you! :')**

**AGAIN sorry for any errors with this chapter, if you could maybe point out where they are and I shall do my best to change them as soon as possible**

**I don't own Sherlock** :'(

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><p><strong>Three years later. Six years after Sherlock's "Death" <strong>

"Sherlock?" John asked, sitting on the sofa. His arm about his Sherlock.

"Yes John?" Sherlock asked. Smiling at him, and placing a small kiss on the top of John's head.

"I was, erm... thinking we should go out for dinner tonight? I mean we don't do it much... and we have been together three years last Tuesday, and we didn't do anything... so I thought maybe..."

"I'd love to John. You don't need to seem so worried, I love going out with you." Sherlock looked down at John, who was wearing a small smile on his face.

"I love you." John said as he started to stand up. "And I'm glad you agreed as I booked the table for eight." He said throwing a cheeky smile behind him at Sherlock as he made his way to their bedroom.

Sherlock stared at him as he watched John walk away and just blinked in disbelief.

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><p>Sherlock and John walked in the the restaurant that night, hand in hand. Sherlock could feel John tense and knew their was something on his mind, but lately he had became very good at hiding things from Sherlock. This annoyed him slightly, but he was happy he could have a normal relationship without knowing what his boyfriend was doing almost every second of the day.<p>

They where lead to the table, where the waiter whispered something in John's ear, and he simply nodded.

"What did he say?" Sherlock asked defensively, feeling a small amount of jealousy bubbling in his stomach, he knew it wouldn't lead any futher then a small bubble as long as John told him, he trusted John with his life.

John looked at him and smiled. "he was just asking if he wanted wine."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, not believing John completely, but knowing if he was lying there would be a very good reason for it. There always was.

John looked at Sherlock, he could tell he didn't totally believe him about the wine question, and he was finally happy he was able to avoid Sherlock's observant eye.

Sherlock couldn't know the truth about this meal. Not yet, not until the time was ready. And soon they where making there started.

"How's your prawn cocktail?" John asked Sherlock. Knowing that he wasn't the biggest fan of eating out, fancy meals. or anything like that, he'd rather sit in and play his violin, John had even come to enjoy Sherlock's playing and would lie in bed at night and listen. It now soothed him in to sleep instead of keeping him up all night.

"It's the best food I have ever tasted." Sherlock said, and John showed mock hurt.

"I thought my cooking was the best..." Sherlock frowned at him.

"Don't show me mock pain John Watson!" He said with a small chuckle.

Soon the meal was over and they where ordering their dessert. When suddenly John raised a hand slightly, and five violin players walked over to their table, John was clearly scared about something, and all Sherlock wanted to do was pull him in to his arms and hold him.

The music started to play, and Sherlock looked up... It was his favorite song, one he had played on John on many occasions.

John moved from his chair to kneel in front of Sherlock. It was in the moment Sherlock realised what was going on, and how blind he had been to this, but he's heart was beating faster then anything in the world, as he waited for the question.

John's breath was coming out slow and shallow as he looked at Sherlock's face... he knew that Sherlock had figured it out, and then didn't help his nervous.

Slowly he reached in to his pocket and produced a small ring sized box. John could see Sherlock's eyes begin to water, and the smile form on his lips... that gave him all the encouraging he needed.

"Sherlock Holmes. I have loved you almost from the first moment I set eyes on you. And I have never stopped even when I thought I'd lost you for good. I never stopped loving you. Will you do me the great honer of becoming my husband? And Marrying me?"

Even though he knew it was coming, Sherlock couldn't believe his ears, his eyes grow wide and his smile spread across his face, showing so many emotions he once didn't think was possible for him to feel.

"Yes John."

And with those two simple words, Sherlock Holmes made John Watson the happiest man in the world.

Who'd have ever thought it? Sherlock Holmes. The Freak, The sociopath, The human no human could ever love, was not getting married to the man of his dreams.

Dr John Watson, and Mr Sherlock Holmes. So different, yet so like...

Two halves of the same coin.

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><p><strong>I really hope you liked it, I know the ending might not seem like a very "Sherlock" way of acting, but I was trying to show that John has shown this strange unhuman man, how to be human. <strong>

**Thank you. :'D **


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